


All I Need is You

by bookjunkiecat



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: COVID19, Coronavirus, First Kiss, First Time, Hand Job, Love Confession, M/M, NOTE RATING CHANGED, Oral Sex, Pandemic - Freeform, Snuggling, anthea ships it, here be sex y'all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:14:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23291512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookjunkiecat/pseuds/bookjunkiecat
Summary: Greg can't stand it any longer. Despite the desperate times, he simply has to see Mycroft. It's time to tell his best friend he loves him, even if it's unrequited.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes & Greg Lestrade, Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Mystrade - Relationship
Comments: 38
Kudos: 182





	1. Confession

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to Tumblr, in response to a post someone had made about overhearing a man confess his love to his best friend in light of what's going on in the world.

Anthea planted herself on her heels, back against the door, face mutinous. “Inspector, you _can’t_ go in. I don’t care how urgent your message is, I’ll have to pass it to him. Mr Holmes is too vital to the country’s well-being to risk his health!”

Greg was still breathing raggedly, winded from running up the stairs, in too much of a hurry to wait for the lift. Feeling a little lightheaded from his rush, Greg put one hand on the doorframe, as much to support himself as to allow him to lean in closer to Anthea. She shrank back slightly, not out of fear of physical harm, but because these days everyone was keeping their distance for fear of catching _it._ “This _is_ vital,” he all but growled, ready to shove her out of the way and force his way through the door. “I don’t have much time, the Met is a madhouse, we’re short-staffed and stretched thin. But I have to talk to him!” He swallowed, “Anthea, please? This-this might be my last chance, i-if things go south.”

Her eyes softened, and she sagged a little, breathing out slowly. Greg’s heart beat faster with excitment, only to plummet with her next words, “I can’t let you in, Inspector.”

Closing his eyes, Greg struggled to control his need to cry.

“If, however,” Anthea continued, walking past him, “I go to the loo for the first time in six hours, and you slip past me. Well…”

He’d have grabbed her and kissed her, only there was one person he wanted to do that to if it weren’t so dangerous. “Bless you,” he managed, and she slipped into the corridor, closing the door behind her.

Wiping his eyes, Greg turned the handle to Mycroft’s inner office. The man in question was seated behind his normally spartan desk, much as he usually was. Things had changed however. The desk was a mess of files, there were two open laptops and several empty tea cups. Mycroft was rumpled and exhausted, blueish shadows under his eyes, hair on end from fingers run through it. Greg’s heart squeezed at the sight. “Mycroft,” he said softly.

At that, Mycroft, who had been sitting in silence, eyes closed, head tipped wearily back against the headrest of his chair, opened startled eyes. “Greg!” He sat up, “What on earth are you doing here?” Worry salted his voice, “You shouldn’t be out in public unless necessary, you know that!"

“I had to come,” Greg said hoarsely, fingernails digging into his palms. He was trying to control the shaking which had entered his limbs. It wasn’t sickness, or even nerves. Now that he was here, all he wanted to do was cross the room and haul Mycroft into his arms. The relief at seeing his friend was so great he could scarcely contain it. “It’s necessary. It’s _vital_ that I tell you before I lose my chance.”

Mycroft stood, fingertips on his desk, forehead pleated with worry. “Tell me what? Greg, you’re not-you’re not sick are you?”

“No,” he half-laughed, voice shaking, “I had to come and tell you while I still can…I’m in love with you.” Mycroft was silent, eyes huge, face stunned. Other than his shock, Greg couldn’t read him. His silence was telling, however. Greg swallowed hard against his disappointment.

He’d known, coming here, that there was a slim chance Mycroft would return his feelings, more than anything he’d simply needed to tell him. Needed him to know. “I-I know you don’t feel the same way,” he managed, backing towards the door. “Oh god, you aren’t saying anything, this is bad, this–”

Greg,” Mycroft gasped, breaking, tears rolling from his eyes, “ _Shut up, darling_. I wasn’t saying anything because I was trying not to cry.” He sobbed, breaking into a smile, “I love you too, you idiot!”

Not able to help himself one iota, Greg sobbed so hard from shocked relief and joy that his chest felt as if it might burst. He swayed, wanting to race across the room and gather Mycroft up. This was a moment which called for a kiss, for loving touches and tender words. Not standing across the rug at twenty paces like duelists. But he couldn’t risk Mycroft. Not when the country needed him.

Mycroft, however, had no such qualms. He was already crossing the room, face ablaze with happiness.

“Myc, no,” Greg groaned, stepping back until he bumped against the door. “You can’t–it’s too risky. The country needs you.”

“And _I_ need _you,_ Greg,” Mycroft declared, reaching him and putting his arms around Greg without pausing. “All I need is you.”


	2. Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg and Mycroft have to self-isolate at Mycroft's house. Two weeks alone...what will they do?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that the rating changed, the first chapter was G, this is Mature. Here be sex, y'all.

Anthea was a dream.

She sorted it all. Within an hour she had Mycroft and Greg bundled off to Mycroft’s house; Mycroft was to work from home, and Greg had been given paid leave for two weeks. A grocery order had been delivered to Mycroft’s house and she’d even sent someone round to Greg’s to fetch his things.

None of that mattered, except that it meant they could shut themselves away from the world.

In the back of Mycroft’s chauffered car, they sat in happy silence, Greg’s head on Mycroft’s shoulder, their hands tightly clasped. Greg’s other hand was tucked under Mycroft’s jacket, inside his waistcoat, resting warm and comforting over his heart. He stirred a little, raising his head, “Kiss me?” he asked hopefully. Foolish man, as if Mycroft would ever deny him.

“Happily, all of my kisses are yours, my darling,” he said softly, and watched the happy bloom of Greg’s face. Cupping his jaw tenderly in his hand, Mycroft slanted his lips softly onto Greg’s, seeking, and finding, entrance. They lost themselves in one another until the Jaguar pulled to a stop in Mycroft’s private garage. “We’re home,” Mycroft said, and felt an undeniable thrill at the words. If he had his way, they’d never leave. Greg would simply move in, lock, stock and as many barrels as he wanted. Unless, of course, he didn’t like the house. In which case, Mycroft would move. He’d live in a cardboard box with Greg, as long as they were together.

Alright, perhaps nothing so extreme. He did love his creature comforts, after all.

They walked together into the short hall which led to Mycroft’s kitchen from the underground garage. “Hungry?” Mycroft asked, striving to be a civilised adult and a good host, rather than just latch onto the man like a limpet. 

Greg’s face visibly struggled not to step into the opening Mycroft had left him. Mycroft laughed, “Let me rephrase that. Have you had lunch? Shall I make tea? Pour us a drink of something stronger? I imagine,” he said dryly, “that Anthea already has champagne chilling for us.”

“I’ve had lunch, I don’t want tea, and we should save the champagne for dinner,” Greg answered, stepping close again. Mycroft’s arms opened to pull him close, as naturally as if they’d always been doing it. “Right now I want to get as close to you as you’re willing, and kiss you as much as you’ll let me. Later I want to make us dinner and open that champagne, and be unbearably soppy and romantic.” He bit his lip, a rueful smile lighting his eyes, “I’m probably going to drive you spare with how mad for you I am.”

“I’m not sure I have an appreciable threshold for that,” Mycroft told him, smiling helplessly. “I rather fancy the idea of seeing just how ‘soppy’ you get.”

“Well darlin’,” Greg breathed, sliding his arms around Mycroft’s waist and tipping his face up for a kiss, “Let’s not waste any more time.”

They walked hand in hand up the stairs, Greg looking around the upper floor with mild curiosity, as he’d never been beyond the ground floor before. “You can give me the ten penny tour later,” he said, “right now I just want to see your bed.” His voice dropped, “and you in it.”

Mycroft shivered, and tugged him towards his bedroom. “I’ve imagined you here many times,” he confessed, standing next to the bed, smoothing his hands over Greg’s chest. He felt the colour rise in his cheeks, “Rather a lot.”

Greg’s smile sparkled with shy mischief, “Oh? I’d like to hear all about this...or you could show me what you imagined.”

They undressed without rushing, sliding warm palms over the other as they removed clothing, stopping to press unhurried kisses to newly bared skin. Mycroft only felt a shadow of self-consciousness as he stood nude in front of Greg, but it vanished in light of the awe with which he was gazing at him. “Myc,” Greg breathed, “You’re so gorgeous, darlin’.” 

“I assure you that  _ you _ are the gorgeous one,” Mycroft managed to say through a thick throat. He swallowed, not wanting to grow teary, though his heart was overflowing with happiness. “You’re beautiful, Greg.”

Greg’s face made it clear he didn’t agree, but he blushed and snuggled closer, “Sounds like an argument we might be having for life,” he suggested.

Mycroft laughed breathlessly, “Is that the sort of thing couples argue about?”

“The lucky ones,” Greg grinned, and finally, finally touched him, skimming his palm down Mycroft’s chest, trailing over his stomach and grazing his erection. Mycroft shuddered, gooseflesh breaking out, the fine hairs on his body standing on end. Greg hummed, eyes so deep and dark on Mycroft’s, as he gently encircled him with his fingers and rubbed a soft thumb over the slick drop of moisture he found. “I’m feeling pretty lucky, gorgeous.”

“I’m the lucky one,” Mycroft disagreed hoarsely, feeling his knees turn to jelly. He swayed and Greg pulled him close. 

They melted onto the bed, fluid, soft, unable to stop touching. Mycroft thought he’d never be able to stop touching Greg. It might make work a trifle awkward, but given the years he’d sacrificed a personal life to the nation, he rather thought they owed him some concessions.

“Like to see you smiling,” Greg murmured, kissing Mycroft as if he could taste his happiness. He was smiling himself; they were both unable to stop. “Makes me feel invincible, knowing you’re smiling because of me.”

“I feel the same,” Mycroft breathed, shivering as Greg began kissing his way down his chest. He shook, trembling as if from a high fever, as Greg palmed him warmly, hand moving softly. Mycroft buried his fingers in Greg’s hair, eyes closing. “Oh god, Greg…”

As Greg’s lips closed around him, Mycroft swallowed a whimper. Greg pulled back, lips slick, eyes hot as the sun, “Naw, darlin’,” he whispered, thumbs stroking the thin skin of Mycroft’s groin, “Let me hear you…”

It would have been too hard to contain himself anyway. Mycroft was afraid he’d pull Greg’s hair out by the roots, so he let go, and fisted his hands in the duvet, crying out as his pleasure crested. It had been too long, his desire for Greg too great, and he wasn’t able to last. Shaking, he came apart, eyes rolling helpless tears. Greg immediately gathered him into his arms, wrapping him close, and shushed him, kissing away his tears and smoothing his hair. Mycroft panted, shivering, and clung to Greg. Greg was murmuring love and assurance, pressing his lips to Mycroft’s temple, threading his fingers through Mycroft’s sweaty hair. 

After he’d collected himself, Mycroft stirred, reaching for Greg. His cock was hard and hot to the touch, and Mycroft made a little whimper, echoed by Greg, whose eyes rolled shut. “Myc…” he breathed, pressing eagerly into Mycroft’s hand, “I’m so close, darlin’, listening to you come, Christ, that was amazing, you’re so beautiful Myc, but when you come you’re like a god...I’m not gonna last.” He put his hand over Mycroft’s, lids lifting heavily, “Just touch me? ‘s all I need.”

“Gladly,” Mycroft assured him, pressing Greg back onto the bed. He drank in his cries, nuzzling Greg’s face as he worked a slick hand over Greg’s straining flesh until he spilled. Hips jerking, Greg sank into the mattress, limp and dazed. Mycroft wound himself around Greg, offering the same hushed affection and gentle kisses. Greg held him tightly, fingers smoothing restlessly through Mycroft’s chest hair. 

“Soon as I’m recovered,” Greg finally spoke, still sounding wrecked, “I wanna do that like ten more times.”

Mycroft laughed helplessly, “Ambitious,” he managed at last, dropping a kiss on Greg’s smiling mouth. He fumbled to pull the duvet over them, tucking it around Greg. Snuggling close, he laid his head over Greg’s heart, letting his eyes close, “I look forward to this marathon of sexual escapades.”

“Gotta keep fit during the quarantine,” Greg said smugly, adjusting his arms so he was holding Mycroft more securely. “Health and safety first, darlin’, health and safety first.”


End file.
